


Devilish

by SkinSlave



Series: Tijuana Bible Study [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV), Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Body Worship, Light Bondage, M/M, Male Slash, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Power Exchange, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 09:25:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17464859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkinSlave/pseuds/SkinSlave
Summary: Relinquishing Control with Lucifer Morningstar(Lucifer AU, circa 2016, slash, body worship, lightbondage, multiple male orgasms, oral)





	Devilish

A glazed, almost pained, look came over him. He licked his smudged lips and blinked. A breathy sigh escaped. The tattooed hand holding his drink rose toward his mouth as if in reflex.

"I want," he said slowly, deliberately, "to let go for a minute... to not be in control... to give the power over to someone else..."

Morningstar's eyes flashed over his rouguish grin. He shouldn't have been surprised. A man like Marilyn Manson must always have his fist around something. He was always checking and double-checking, forcing his way in and through, making it happen. When one is as misunderstood as he is, nothing is easy. Though they weren't related, despite what the '96 album proclaimed, they did share similar standing in the public eye. Ah, to be young and despised.

"That's perfectly understandable," he said, leaning forward on the black leather couch. "And I can help you."

Marilyn wrinkled his brow and sipped his drink. He realized what he'd said and covered it up with a smirk and a dismissive nod. He scanned the dancefloor. Lux certainly brought in a nubile crowd. Packs of potential lovers writhed to heavy bass. A blonde in a green sheath dress winked at them, but her expensive heels and ridiculously impractical manicure were off-putting.

"You don't want to work tonight." It wasn't a question and it was close enough that Marilyn could feel his host's breath on his neck. "You don't want to make promises, flash wads of cash, coax and prod, only to have her do absolutely nothing to please you. You don't want to be responsible for making it happen. You want someone to make it happen for you."

The last words sent a shiver down the musician's spine. He gulped his drink. The couch moved and his heart fluttered. He didn't want Lucifer to go, but he was going, crossing the bar quickly. Marilyn followed, just fast enough to catch the elevator before the doors closed.

Alone in the box, Lucifer pushed him against the wall. Marilyn looked shocked but didn't object. A ringed hand on his chest held him in place as the devil kissed him deeply. The scrape of his stubble, the way his tongue traced his lips, the taste of high-end bourbon... It was intoxicating. Marilyn moaned as he pulled away. The hand stayed, pressing him tightly against the wall.

Lucifer chuckled, grinning at the open-mouthed man in front of him. The doors opened and he stepped out, leading the way into the penthouse. Marilyn followed, clearing his throat. He tried to take in the simple elegance of the room but his eyes returned always to Morningstar.

He slid out of his suit jacket and tossed it on a chair. He reached for Marilyn, fingers working the buttons on his vest, then his shirt. They both fell away as they came together for another kiss. Lucifer's long fingers brushed over his inked chest, eliciting another soft moan.

The two moved quickly to the bedroom, piling onto rich black satin sheets. Lucifer quickly shed his shirt and slacks. He peeled Marilyn's boots off and tossed his jeans on top of them. He watched intently, catlike, as Manson suddenly realized he was in his underwear. He crossed his arms and averted his eyes.

"Oh, come, now," Lucifer purred, crawling to him. "No need to be shy. I said I was going to help you, and I will."

The devil's fingers flowed like melted butter, opening and lifting Marilyn's arms to allow for gentle nipping kisses on his chest and shoulder. A light clicking sound announced the handcuff as it tightened gently around Manson's left wrist. Instinctively, the singer pulled against it. A sheath of red faux fur kept it comfortable, but it was sturdy, holding him to the headboard.

"Let go," Lucifer pressed, latching the other wrist, "and let me."

He produced a matching red blindfold and settled between Marilyn's knees. The latter seemed unnerved, despite saying nothing. His eyes were wide, his lower lip trapped by his teeth. It was apparent that he truly never gave up control.

"I'm not going to hurt you, for Dad's sake." A sharp sigh and a nod gave permission and Morningstar tied the mask in place. "If you can't trust the devil, who can you trust?"

The dark was electric. Lucifer filled it with a low chuckle and tiny kisses down Manson's chest. Thumbs found his nipples, swirling gently. He gasped and arched at the tingling that spread down his spine. One thumb was replaced by a warm, wet mouth, kissing and lapping at the sensitive bud before applying the tiniest bit of suction. Marilyn began to tremble and give small, strangled moans of pleasure.

"I had no idea you were so sensitive."

"I'm... I... No one's ever..."

The incoherent attempt to explain fell apart when the mouth moved to the other side. His twitching spread into his black boxer briefs, a partial erection throbbing against the fabric. He hiked his hips without thinking, rolling against Lucifer's taut stomach. A full moan, rich baritone with a lilt at the end, filled the bedroom.

"Already ready, I see," Morningstar replied, tracing a finger down his clothed length. "But we don't want to skip ahead."

The bed shifted and two soft, large hands pulled Marilyn's face up for a long kiss. It was sensual, giving. The hands brushed his hair back from his face, stroked his throat, made way for a line of gentle pecks and nibbles from his ear to his shoulder and onto his bicep.

Manson had never been overly muscled, so the attention paid to his arms was foreign. When Lucifer returned to his chest, however, he was reminded of his days as a lanky teenager. Deft fingers found and traced each rib. He mouthed along those now-padded bones to his hips and ran his tongue along the waistband of his underwear. His cock jumped.

"We're getting to you, gorgeous," Lucifer laughed over the chirps and sighs of the man tied to his bed.

He drug his hands over Marilyn's hips and to his long legs. He massaged and kissed, watching the painted lips under the blindfold move. It seemed there were a lot of things no one had ever touched: the tender hollows behind his knees, the balls of his feet, the soft seam between his thighs and pelvis. No wonder he'd seemed tense.

"Mmm, there," Marilyn hummed as the devil brushed a hand over his groin.

Lucifer considered clucking at him for trying to top from the bottom. Instead he took the waistband of his underwear in his teeth and slowly pulled them to his ankles. He left them on, remembering a quirk he'd heard about in an interview, and propped his knees open.

"Bloody hell."

Manson smirked at the Britishism. He often heard an expletive or two after an unveiling, but never anything so posh. His self-satisfied expression melted into a shudder at a blast of hot air on his pride and joy. He waited for the mouth... and waited. He soon realized he was being examined as a fingertip made its way up and down the shaft. Frustrated, he lifted his hips, searching for friction. A wide hand on his stomach pushed him down.

"Naughty..." Lucifer's voice was low and slightly gritty. "Didn't I tell you to trust me?"

The sharp clank of the handcuffs betrayed Manson's reflex to take over. He took a deep breath. He'd asked for this - hadn't he? - and he certainly didn't want to seem like he couldn't handle it. He settled back onto the mattress.

As soon as he was limp, those familiar lips went to work, mouthing wetly at his girth. Lucifer moved slowly over his cock, humming a bit when it tried to bounce out of his grip. His fingers stroked and held his balls. All at once, his entire length was surrounded by the sucking heat of the devil's mouth, drawing a loud, low groan.

The friction of his tongue along the underside was at once perfect and woefully lacking. Marilyn rolled his hips, seeking more. A muffled "uh-uh" vibrated through his body. He tried to hold still, biting his lip in the dark and whimpering. Soon, however, he couldn't control his movement, raising to meet the back of Lucifer's throat, so close.

"Right there," the latter chuckled, letting the cock slide from his lips. "I need you right there. If you feel like you're going over the top, squeeze down like you're doing kegels and tell me. Got it?"

Marilyn mumbled and nodded quickly. He looked so decadent, splayed open and helpless, red lipstick smeared around his mouth, sweat-sheened chest heaving. He was lost. He was surrendering, finally.

Lucifer let his hand resume work on the thick of the musician's flesh. His other hand found his own erection, pressing insistently against his underwear. He squeezed in time with the strokes he was giving, bringing himself toward his own peak. Marilyn's brow knit tightly and he chewed his lip. He seemed very still for a moment.

"Wait, no," he blurted out, jerking his hips.

"Squeeze."

Lucifer lowered his hand, massaging the shaft, and watched as Manson's expression changed from concern and focus to shock. His jaw moved like a fish, looking for words. The devil knelt over him. His grin and busy left hand betrayed how pleased he was that it had worked.

"Did I cum?" Marilyn gasped after a long, heavy pause.

If he had, it was unlike any other. He didn't feel the spray at all, just the tight pleasure that buzzed through him. He felt the hand on him resume, wet and wonderful. It didn't sting like a post-orgasm tease. More, it was as if he was picking up at the halfway mark, building back to the peak.

Before long, he was yelping and clenching again. Somewhere in the dark, he could hear Lucifer breathing in synch with a slick rhythm he recognized. The sound sent a jolt down Manson's spine as he rode another dry climax, abs twitching on the edge of pain. It left him breathless and pawing the air.

"You look so delicious."

That warm, wicked voice dripped into his ear. The mattress shifted. The fingers that had been so steady slowed again as Morningstar took his cock into his mouth. He cursed under his breath and fought the urge to thrust. Instead, he let the long, thick tongue and soft lips do as they pleased.

They were, indeed, pleased. Lucifer moaned at the taste of his arousal, the way it just reached the tightest part of his throat. There were so many things he wanted to do with it, but he didn't want to strain the poor Antichrist. Instead, he sucked and lapped at the smooth skin and worked at his own member. Marilyn sucked in a breath as though bracing.

"Not this time," the devil purred between licks. "This time let go."

He felt Manson twitch beneath him, quickly becoming shallow thrusts into his mouth. His left hand sped up on his own dripping member. The room was a sauna, ringing with their grunts and sighs. A long, low, broken moan fell out of Marilyn as he arched violently, nearly levitating. The intensity of his pleasure sent Lucifer over the edge, shaking and spilling on the expensive sheets.

The final climax was amazing. It was as though he'd been edging for hours. He gasped and cursed incoherently with each wave. He could feel Morningstar struggling to swallow in the midst of his own spasms. For a moment he felt he could cum forever, fill the room, drown them both. What a headline...

He was still trembling with aftershocks when the blindfold was pulled away. He blinked at the light, grinned at Lucifer's face, flushed and breathless with a trickle of cum escaping his lips.

"You've got a little something..." Manson muttered, gesturing with one trapped hand.

"Little, hell," he laughed, capturing the last drop. "Nothing about you is little, darling."

He unlocked the handcuffs and massaged the spent man's wrists for several moments. He seemed ready to melt into the mattress. Lucifer cleaned them both up a bit, kicked the wet sheets away, and wrapped his arms around the big, bad kitten.

"I'd like to take credit for that," he whispered, tracing a tattoo with his fingernail. "But most men don't have that kind of muscle control. I'm impressed."

"I do a lot of kegels," came the murmured reply. "I'm almost 50 and I don't want to be incontinent as an old man."

There was an odd pause, then snickers from both men.

"I don't know why I said that."

"People like to tell me things, desires and secrets. And you're relaxed for once. No tricks, no hidden agendas, just let go and feel."

Marilyn nodded and hummed in affirmation. His eyes were heavy.

"I'm not letting you tour with the band, man," he chuckled.

 


End file.
